


Clearly

by whatthehalestilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, and bad taste tbh, derek falls over, stiles has glasses!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1288213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehalestilinski/pseuds/whatthehalestilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles, due to his excessive amounts of time spent staring at screens for the people he cares about, has been pretty much forced into getting a pair of glasses. He's not particularly keen on them, just on principle, but seeing Derek later kind of changes his opinion on them a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clearly

**Author's Note:**

> this was a prompt from the gorgeous olivia on twitter (@danceswithbilbo), when I asked for quick things to write while I was watching a movie. bc I have attention span issues. and I was bored. or something.  
> anyway, this is for olivia and anyone else who wants to enjoy it!!!!!!

"I told you, Scott, they don't look right. My wonderful face was not built for eyesight on sticks, okay, I swear I'm taking them back. I am taking them back and demanding they give me contacts or so help me god I will settle for going blind." Stiles runs a hand through his hair while he speaks. It shouldn't be this hard to choose a healthy brand of macaroni and cheese, but it is. In fact, he's minutes away from pulling out the ol' enie meenie miny moe routine. Or however you spell it.

Scott sighs on his end of the phone. "I'm sure they're not that bad, Stiles. You don't have to wear them all the time, right? Just for distance? You'll only have to take them out sometimes in class."

"But Scoooooott," Stiles says, and he knows he's whining but the glasses are downright uncomfortable, though mostly he just hates the idea in general because the optometrist said they're necessary due to the excessive amount of time he spends staring at screens. So thank you for absolutely nothing, karma, because he's been staring at a screen so much for Scott -- his best bro -- and Derek. God knows the dude doesn't need anymore strain on him, and Stiles is good at research and likes it anyway. He's being a good person, and how does the almighty bearded man upstairs repay him? By cursing him with bad eyesight and a poorly timed sexual revelation. _Surprise! This whole Derek-Hale-in-your-room-all-the-time thing is making you incredibly attracted to him, and also your eyes are shit! Congrats, you're welcome._ "They're horrid." He moves the glasses in question around on his nose, up and down, trying to make them feel right, and accidentally knocks one of the boxes of macaroni into his cart in the process. He shrugs and moves on, because obviously that was fate deciding for him.

"Why didn't you pick different ones?" Scott asks, genuinely curious.

"Because I secretly like being ridiculed. No, dude, because the old lady at the counter said they were the best suited to me and wouldn't let me _touch_ another pair. I swear to god she's a dragon underneath the sweet old lady exterior. She probably would have eaten my head if I walked away with a pair she didn't like," Stiles says, walking away from the milk section already because that decision was much easier to make. "Plus, my dad took her side, the freaking traitor."

"What makes them so bad, though? Maybe she's right! Maybe they do look good!"

"You're always too optimistic, man," Stiles tells him, because he is. "I look like the biggest nerd." Stiles closes his eyes so his free hand can rub at one of them, elbows steering the shopping cart. "And don't even get me started on the big lenses, I look like some kind of hipster--"

That, of course, is when he runs into Derek. Literally. Their carts smash together, metal clanging, and Stiles wants to laugh because he wasn't even sure Derek knew what a grocery store _was_ before now. Derek snaps his head up from inspecting a carton of cream, and he looks like he's going to close the glass door to the fridge unit, but his hand misses as soon as he looks at Stiles and he falls straight into the shelves inside. He's still kind of upright, just looks like he's leaning on them for support, but Stiles can't contain his laughter and before long he's leaning on the handle of his shopping cart for support in a similar way.

When they both straighten up, Derek's face is expressing the most emotion Stiles has ever seen on him, cheeks bright red, and Stiles just doubles over, laughing harder. He can't breathe, really, he can't, but he risks a look up anyway and _man_ that was a bad idea. The absolute worst idea, because the corner of Derek's mouth is upturned, just slightly, and it's like a sobering punch to the gut and now Stiles _really_ can't breathe. He'd say the guy should smile some more, except that then Stiles would probably die of asphyxiation with a side of heart palpitations.

"Uh, hah, wow, hi. Sorry, I uh..." Stiles finally gets out. He's distantly aware he just ended the call with Scott, but there are much more important things going on right now, so his furry best friend can wait. Things like the small -- and fading -- smile on Derek's face and the way his ears are still a little red. Much more important than anything Scott has to say at the moment, frankly.

A strangled sound makes it's way out of Derek's mouth when it opens, and even he seems to look surprised at it, so he closes it, coughs, tries again. "Uh. Glasses," Derek says intelligently, swallowing again. "You got glasses."

"Oh, fuck, yeah, shit. I uh, just got them. Today. I know they look weird, trust me, I hate them. I think I'm gonna take them back because--"

"Don't." Stiles' mouth kind of just hangs open a little, mid-sentence, before Derek seems to backpedal. "I mean, they look good." He opens his mouth continue, before closing it and clenching his teeth and furrowing his eyebrows. He tries again, but he just looks like he's in pain, so Stiles tries to save him.

"Have you gotten to vegetables yet? Because I haven't and I'm really enjoying this hilarious turn of events, so maybe we could move this that way?"

Stiles gets the feeling Derek doesn't actually need any vegetables, because he's a) a carnivorous werewolf and b) probably allergic to them, but the grump agrees anyway and even picks up a bag of carrots. Stiles manages to hold back any remarks on that one.

They end up doing the rest of their shopping together, for no particular reason, and Stiles babbles on about his dad's bad eating habits and lacrosse practice just to fill the silence. Before he knows it, they're standing outside against the wall of the store, in the dark of the parking lot, saying nothing. Though of course, Stiles can't stand quiet.

"So, um," he says, like a fucking genius, pushing his glasses up his nose subconsciously. "You really don't think they're too bad?"

Derek huffs, looking around, and shoves his hands in his pockets. "They're fine."

"Are you sure? Cause, I mean, that wasn't exactly what I would call a reassuring answer." Stiles runs a hand through his hair and licks his lips at the same time.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

"Uh, what?"

"The glasses," Derek grumbles out, like that's any explanation.

"Dude, you're gonna have to elaborate a little, 'cause--"

Derek moves in, letting go of his cart and effectively shutting Stiles up. Stiles leans back against the wall of the store, watching Derek as his eyes flick from Stiles' down to his lips. It's only for a second, but it's enough to make Stiles' stomach do backflips and he takes in shallow breaths, trying to tell himself he imagined it. Finally, Derek sighs. "The glasses are fine," He says, backing away.

Which, no. So much goddamn no. Derek can't just do shit like that and then walk away, alright, Stiles isn't having any of it. So he grabs the front of Derek's Henley, ignoring the pounding of his heart and the adrenaline racing through his veins and pulls Derek back in. Stiles is aware of the fact that the dude's a werewolf, and could very well just walk away from Stiles' grip like it didn't exist if he wanted to, but instead he lets Stiles pull him in.

Stiles' legs are weak and he can hear his own heartbeat in his ears as his lips meet Derek's, soft and warm.

He pulls away right after that, because while Derek definitely _seemed_  to want it, Stiles is also aware that he could have completely misinterpreted the situation and now the emotionally stunted supernatural macho-man wants his head on a stick. Stiles comforts himself with the thought that at least now he knows, for future reference he probably won't end up needing, that his glasses won't get in the way.

But surprisingly, Derek's lips follow his until Stiles can feel the brick wall behind his head and Derek's forehead brushing his and Derek's lips grazing his and Derek's legs pressing against his and Derek's heavy breath mixing with his and it's too much and not enough at the same time. He lets Derek come to him this time, just millimetres of distance to close, and just like that they're making out against a small town grocery store.

It doesn't take long before Stiles' hands start crawling their way from Derek's chest and up around his neck, one buried in his hair and the other brushing his shoulder blade. Derek's hands must have been against Stiles' hips ages ago, but now they're scooping up under his many layers and rubbing softly at the bare skin there, and Stiles is really out of breath. He tries break away to suck in some precious oxygen, but before his lungs are satisfied Derek is taking the opportunity to kiss him open-mouthed, tongue and all, and Stiles can't find it in himself to protest.

One of Derek's hands moves down and around to grab at Stiles' ass, and he can really feel his jeans tighten in the crotch area. He shifts his hips a little, trying to find some relief, only to find that Derek's feeling the same way. A low moan escapes Derek at the friction, and Stiles struggles to keep kissing and ignore the smug smile that threatens to pull at his lips.

When they finally pull away from each other, they're both hard, breathing hard, and a little sweaty. There's an old couple walking by them, but Stiles doesn't care and Derek doesn't seem to, either. They're still close, Derek's hands back at Stiles' hips and Stiles' hands still around Derek's neck. Their foreheads remain touching, just a little, but it's intimate enough that Stiles can't help but feel a spark of hope.

"So..." Stiles starts, through laboured breath, because his reputation for being unable to keep his mouth shut is one based off truth. "The glasses--"

Derek rolls his eyes, but there's a smile behind them. "Definitely a good thing. Now shut up."

"But like, how good?" Derek has started kissing lines along his jaw and down his throat, and it's super distracting, but he just _needs_  to know. For science. "On a scale of one to ten. On a scale of one to Andrew Garfield in glasses. Come on, I need to know, okay, give me something."

Derek pauses for a bit, kissing his way from Stiles' throat to bury his nose in the crook of Stiles' neck. "Hmm." His arms wrap around Stiles' waist, hands to elbows, pulling him in impossibly closer. "Twelve," he says, mouth brushing lightly against the skin on Stiles' neck and breath hot as he speaks. "Really fucking hot." He places one last kiss there before bringing his head back up to stare Stiles in the eye. "Now shut up."

And, just for fun, Stiles says, "Make me."

 

+

 

The next day, Scott finds Stiles at his jeep in the school parking lot before the first bell rings. When he comes within 20 feet or so, he makes a face and brings his hand up to cover his nose and mouth. Stiles figures he should feel a bit lucky Scott keeps walking at all.

"Dude, you smell like Derek," is the first thing Scott says to him, once they're finally side-by-side, walking toward the school together. "And did you trade your glasses in? Those look really good."

Stiles laughs a little, because there's irony in there somewhere. "Yeah, I ran into Derek at the grocery store last night."

"Did you guys spend five hours in there or something? Two minute conversations don't usually smell this strong."

"We may have, uh--"

"Stiles, oh my god, is that a hickey?" Lydia says, coming over to him and Scott, and of _course_ she has some kind of high-tech radar for this kind of thing, of course she does. "Oh, and glasses, too! They're hot. They do wonders for your cheekbones, Stiles, and I'd bet hundreds they're at least partly responsible for that little love bruise right there," She says playfully, tapping lightly at the spot on his neck that's definitely discoloured, and also definitely poking out of the low collar of his tee. Lord help him. "Well, how exciting, huh, boys? See ya!" 

"Please tell me -- no, not with -- oh, dude, _gross_!" Scott scrunches up his nose again, but Stiles can only smirk as Lydia's strawberry blonde girls bounce out of view. He can admit it's much easier to laugh and appreciate her when he's not kissing the ground she walks on.

"Oops. Anyway, nah man, this the dreaded hipster nerd pair."

"You have a weird definition of horrible. Those look great! Aren't they only for reading stuff that's far away, though?"

"I don't know, dude," Stiles says, pushing up the glasses in question. "I think it's worth it to wear them full time."

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! I love feedback and constructive criticism, if you're willing to give it (✿◠‿◠) 
> 
> also I changed my tumblr url again if you wanna talk to me there!!!!!  
> tumblr: twcno.tumblr.com  
> twitter: @spoopernaturai (((the i is capital so it looks like an L!!!!)))


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